


Board Help Me Be the Kind of Person Peter Nureyev Thinks I Am

by brionypoisoned



Category: Stellar Firma (Podcast), The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alcohol, Also I ship Rita/I.M.O.G.E.N. now and no one can stop me, Am I proud of it? no, Comedy, Crossover, Did I imply that Peter Nureyev slept with Bathin?, Gen, Heist, Let David 7 and Juno Steel work together to destroy space capitalism 2020, References to Drugs, Swearing, let David 7 say fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25041385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brionypoisoned/pseuds/brionypoisoned
Summary: Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev pretend to want to buy a planet from Stellar Firma in order to cover for Rita in a heist. Little do they know they will be dealing with the nightmare sales team of Trexel Geistman and David 7.Set in Season 2 of Stellar Firma when Trexel and David are in sales.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 33
Kudos: 108





	Board Help Me Be the Kind of Person Peter Nureyev Thinks I Am

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how many people will be interested in a Stellar Firma/Juno Steel crossover but the idea came to me and simply would not get out of my head! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I very much appreciate all kudos and compliments!!

**~The Carte Blanche, 48 Hours Before the Meeting~**

Juno sat cross-legged on the floor of the shared living room, huddled over a mirror and practicing his eye makeup for the fifth time. For their next job Juno needed to look like someone who was rich enough to purchase an entire planet, and he wanted his makeup to look professionally done. Fortunately he just had the one eye, so it took half as much time as it might have. Although depth perception made mascara an issue.

Peter stretched languidly over the couch behind him, entering something at a rapid speed into his comms. Every once in a while he would let out a low chuckle. After the third unintentional little burst of laughter Juno finally turned around.

"Something funny?" He asked.

"I'm so sorry Juno, I don't mean to be distracting it's just..." Peter propped himself up on his elbows and showed Juno his comms screen. "Stellar Firma sent me an actual questionnaire to fill out before our meeting! It's incredible character work! It's almost like they WANT people to scam them!" 

"Let me see that!" Juno grabbed the comms out of his hands. "So your name's gonna be, Baz Skretteberg... ok... 'why do you want a planet built,' they ask... and you answered 'as a gift for my muse, my queen, my beautiful boyfriend Ophelia Clay'?!" 

Juno gave Peter a look. Peter grinned pointedly back.

**~Stellar Firma Sales Office, 20 minutes Before the Meeting~**

"Mr. Skretteberg... whose pronouns, by the way, are he/him... his father invented a type of breakfast pastry called... Strawbebbies?" David 7 said, squinting at the last word on the printed brief. 

They had just begun working on their sales plan. David 7 would have very much liked to get started earlier, but he couldn't until Trexel showed up, and Trexel NEVER showed up on time.

"Strawbebbies? Is that a typo?" Trexel asked, drumming his fingers on the table in his manic way.

"I don't know. Have you ever heard of Strawbebbies?"

"I don't think so. Have you?"

David narrowed his eyes at Trexel, BONE tired of having to explain every FUCKING day that he wasn't allowed to leave the room or eat anything other than CLONE SLURRY and therefore no, he had never enjoyed a Strawbebby. 

"Skretteberg's Strawbebbies." Trexel muttered. "You know I rather like that, it's got a nice ring to it."

"Stellar Firma's Skretteberg's Strawbebbies, registered trademark, Stellar Firma Corporation!" I.M.O.G.E.N., their extremely powerful artificial intelligence helpmate and unreliable babysitter, announced in a legally dubious fashion. 

David 7 carried on.

"Well, somebody's buying quite a lot of them, take a look at Baz's price range." He showed the brief to Trexel. 

"GOOD BOARD!" Trexel shouted. "And that's just off of his inheritance?"

"This is one obscenely rich son of pastry magnate apparently."

"And what did he say he wanted the planet for?" Trexel asked.

**~*~**

"Well of course its for you, Ophelia." Peter purred, drooping his head off of the couch and making upside down eye contact with Juno. "You're my muse."

"Muse for WHAT?! This says you're basically the Cecil Kanagawa of pastries!"

"Don't worry love, I wrote you an elaborate backstory about being an indie electronic artist with a cult following who is in the process of selling out and has taken Baz on as a sugar daddy. I'll send you the notes later. It'll be a piece of cake."

Juno made a face. He didn't like memorizing backstories. He preferred his old standby, just punching the shit out of someone.

"Likes." Juno read aloud. "Standing in front of people and talking about myself. High quality menswear. Line dancing. Dislikes..."

**~*~**

"'People disagreeing with him, food arriving late, and music.'" David said. "Oh, and he's added a little asterisk here, *Except the music my darling Ophelia makes, of course, my honeybun."

"Are you calling me a honeybun?" Trexel asked.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT, Trexel. That's just what he's written there." 

"So the muse is a MUSICIAN, is he? A muse-ICIAN. That's very good to know, David. Musicians are flighty people."

"Are they?" David 7 asked, hoping against hope that Trexel was actually making a good point here and not off on one of his usual tangents.

"Yes EXTREMELY temperamental. Probably'll show up blitzed to high heaven on all sorts of amphetamines and whatnot."

"Shocking." David 7 deadpanned, knowing there was an 85% likelihood that Trexel was high on something as they spoke. "How will I cope." 

"So a drug addled temperamental lady, accompanied by a talentless child of wealth, David, I'm afraid we might have a testy situation here."

"I don't know, its all starting to sound rather familiar to me." David 7 admitted.

"Sass detected! Security, alerted!" I.M.O.G.E.N. announced. Her warnings had used to make David nervous but he'd learned now that security never actually showed up.

"What sort of animal would he be?" Trexel asked, anticipating the next question on the list.

**~*~**

"What the hell is a mongoose!?" Juno asked. 

"Oh give me that, I answered that one honestly, I should change it." Peter snatched his comms back and stared at the screen. "Juno, what sort of animal would Baz Skretteberg be?"

"I don't know, I only know Mars animals. I don't think he's a rabbit."

"Oh certainly not a Martian Rabbit. Hm. An axolotl then." 

**~*~**

"DAVID, THAT IS TERRIBLE NEWS! AN AXOLOTL IS THE WORST ANSWER HE COULD HAVE CHOSEN!!"

"Is it!? Why!?" David found his voice rising to match Trexel's shrill volume.

"Do you know how many lives wild axolotl have destroyed!?" 

"I don't even know what one IS!?" David 7 squeaked.

"And you should thank the board every night before you sleep in your fancy little bed in your fancy little pod that you've never run across one." Trexel growled.

**~*~**

"Why axolotl?" Juno asked.

"They're cute with their little frills." Peter said. "I don't know." 

**~*~**

"W-well, it says his strengths are... the sheer force of his character... and then it just says... 'solution oriented.'" 

"What does that mean, David?" Trexel asked. "Solution oriented... is he oriented towards some kind of solute dissolved in a solvent?" 

"I'll ask I.M.O.G.E.N., I.M.O.G.E.N.? What does Solution Oriented mean?" 

" _The defintion of Solution Oriented is... a combination of words utilized to fill up space on a resume._ " I.M.O.G.E.N. announced.

"Ah! So he's an idiot." Trexel said. "That's the first good news I've heard in a long time." 

"It says his weaknesses are Ophelia's eyes and... oh it says right here! Amphetamines! Looks like you were right about that one, Trexel!" David 7 finished.

"Of COURSE I'm right, David! I'm TREXEL GEISTMAN! The day I'm wrong about something will be a very grave day indeed!" 

"Can't even imagine it." David 7 muttered. I.M.O.G.E.N., a computer program, picked upon the sarcasm. Trexel didn't.

"That reminds me, we've got to work on your imagination. A strong, vivacious imagination is one of the KEY SKILLS OF SALESMANSHIP!"

"Is it, now?" David 7 glanced at the clock. Ten minutes left before showtime, and all they had was a bunch of hot air. He gritted his teeth and tried, once again, to wrangle something usable from his partner.

**~THE MEETING~**

The client meeting room of the Stellar Firma space station was massive, grandiose, and yet still somehow shabbier than Juno had expected. The furnishings were clearly expensive but just a touch out of style, and the walls and floors were marred by stains and minor scorch marks. His chair was outrageous, designed obviously more for style than for comfort, and he squirmed to find a way to sit in it that was tolerable for more than a minute. 

Peter paced the room looking like some kind of futuristic tropical bird. Everyone on the Carte Blanche had lost their shit when he walked into the kitchen, all dolled up in costume. Even Jet had let out an unmistakeable chuckle. Peter simply drank their reaction in, bowing and assuring them that the kind of wealthy person that could afford to build an entire pleasure-planet had their own fashion rules, and he was following them to a T. Juno, blessedly, had gotten away with a slightly more subdued outfit, wide-legged bright orange silk dress pants, neon purple boots, and lace halter top. He actually kind of liked his bright orange eye patch.

They only needed to keep the meeting going long enough for Rita to use their proximity to hack into the I.M.O.G.E.N. program. Rita had spent 40 minutes of their morning family meeting explaining just what this meant via a number of stream comparisons and one small picture of a dog, but most of it had gone over Juno's head. He'd managed to grasp that I.M.O.G.E.N. was one of those spooky all knowing computer thingies, and Rita was going to have a hard time.

Peter did a little twirl in his outfit so that the colors of his fringed shirtsleeves would all ripple together. Juno couldn't help but stare.

"Oh, you like that, do you Ophelia?" Peter, or uh, Baz, asked with a grin. 

"You look like a box of cyber-crayons exploded." Juno replied. Peter gave him a little pout and walked over

"You wound me." He said, leaning over and giving Juno/Ophelia a kiss on the cheek. Peter was much more affectionate in character than he was out of character, which was definitely one of the things Juno had tried to unpack with Buddy on multiple occasions. He wasn't about to waste a good thing, though. 

"C'mere..." he whispered, tilting Peter's head toward his, but the mechanical wheeze of the door opening made them both pull back.

Two men burst into the room. One was thick in frame and about as garishly dressed as Baz with somewhat faded dyed green hair. His eyes were shielded behind a massive pair of pink and pearl framed eyeglasses, but they couldn't hide his noticeable crows feet. The other man stood several inches taller and appeared to be covered in some kind of... ooze? He wore a rubbery and uncomfortable looking onesie with the Stellar Firma logo on it. His doe-like eyes darted around the room in a fairly expressive fashion, considering that one of his irises was a barcode. 

"AH MR. SKRETTEBERG!" The shorter man boomed. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you! it is I, TREXEL GEISTMAN." He said his name the way a professional wrestling announcer might declare a victor. 

"Geistman?" Peter stood up and adjusted his glasses. "Why does that name sound familiar?" He muttered.

"I see my reputation has preceded me!" Trexel said with a chuckle, and his chest puffed out a bit.

"You wouldn't be related to the Geistman family... the engineering family?" Peter said, snapping his fingers at the recollection.

"Ah yes! That would be my mother... yes!" Trexel answered, tone wavering a bit. His gooey companion glanced at him with worry. 

"Oh, a brilliant woman!" Peter said. "I've heard of her accomplishments as far out as the outer rim! I never heard that she had any children, though?" 

Trexel froze at Peter's words, like a glitching comms screen. Peter had hit a nerve there, apparently.

"My name's David 7." The taller man interrupted in a shrill but oddly endearing voice. "Please feel free to come to me with any questions..."

"SHUT UP, David!" Trexel roared, causing David 7 to flinch. "I WAS HAVING A MOMENT!" 

"Hey!" Juno protested, on his feet before he could help it. Everyone turned to stare at him, Peter included. Peter especially, actually. "That's uh... kinda rude, huh?" He finally said, looking around for backup. "Shouting like that? I mean... c'mon." 

He may have been mistaken but he could have sworn he saw a flash of gratitude in David 7's eyes. 

"Ophelia, darling," Baz schmoozed. Juno could tell from the way his head tilted to the left and the wide, false glint of his smile that it was Baz addressing him at this point, not Peter. "David 7 is a clone. Have you ever met a clone, before, sweets?"

"'Met' might even be a strong word for it, actually." Trexel piped in. 

"Yes! Precisely. Stellar Firma builds clones as what... volunteers?"

"I didn't volunteer to do anything." David 7 mumbled. Baz continued as though he hadn't heard.

"Unpaid helpers?" Baz turned to Trexel who nodded in agreement. "You don't have to be polite to clones! That's their whole point! Oh, you really are cute, Ophelia!" Baz laughed condescendingly.

Juno knew of course that Peter was simply embodying a character, that he was responding to Ophelia the way a sociopathic gazillionaire asshole would. But he couldn't help it, his skin crawled at the sight of the love of his life behaving in such a way, costume or not. 

"I need a drink." He muttered.

"A drink? You say? AH! An excellent suggestion, Ophelia!" Trexel piped up, clapping. "I can see why you like him, Mr. Skretteberg! May I call you Mr. Skretteberg? Baz then. We have any beverage you may desire, Ophelia, you need only ask!"

"God, I just want a whiskey." Juno said. It was out of character for Ophelia but fuck it, Juno needed a whiskey. 

"DAVID! Bring us two whiskeys." Trexel shouted. 

"Right... yes..." David scuttled off to the back of the room. Peter and Ophelia settled into their seats across from Trexel to wait for their drinks, Peter putting one leg over the arm of it like he didn't know how chairs worked, it was absolutely insufferable.

"And what will you have Baz?" Trexel asked.

Peter/Baz blinked.

"I... I thought you were getting one for me?" He asked. "Are you having the whiskey?"

"Almost constantly. Although I'll let you in on a secret..." Trexel leaned forward conspiratorially, "Lately I've been indulging in a bit of _moisturizer..._ " 

"TREXEL." David 7 cautioned from the back of the room. "I don't think Hartro would like to hear you're drinking in front of the clients." 

"And I don't think you're supposed to question me in front of the clients, David, and YET HERE WE ARE." Trexel said.

"Oh I don't mind if you join us, Trexel!" Baz said, patting the smaller man on the back heartily. "What's a few drinks among colleagues?" 

"David 7 should get one too, then." Juno said.

Once again everyone froze, David 7 included. 

"Oh, I'm quite all right with clone slurry..." David 7 protested.

"Yes, Ophelia, David really isn't permitted..." Trexel tried to explain.

"EXCUSE ME." Juno attempted to remain in character as a spoiled brat who was about to accept an absurd, planetary gift from his boyfriend. "I was under the impression that Stellar Firma provided top of the line customer service." 

"Oh we DO! We certainly do!" David 7 stumbled over himself to assure them. 

"Well, I'm the customer, and I am not going to continue in this meeting unless David 7 gets a drink." 

Trexel looked as though he was barely restraining himself from launching across the table and grabbing Juno by the throat. Juno met his eye, daring him to do it. Baz laughed a melodic, anxious laugh.

"Surely you can humor my muse?" Baz asked Trexel, tone slightly threatening. "I am about to spend a GREAT deal of money." 

"David. Have a whiskey." Trexel growled.

"I don't think I physically can." David 7 admitted. "As much as I appreciate the gesture! Ophelia!" He said.

"What is it, the alcohol?" Juno protested. "Get yourself a chocolate milk or something then, David 7, have a treat." 

"Ooh!" David gave a little celebratory wiggle at that. Juno couldn't help but smile, even as he avoided Peter's cautionary glances.

~ON BOARD THE CARTE BLANCHE~

Rita munched absently at a bag of dried fish snacks, legs crossed on a sofa, typing at an incredible rate on her comms. The I.M.O.G.E.N. language was complex, certainly, but Rita was good at figuring out the little codes and consistencies across different AI technology that would allow her to enter the database. Which was why she was surprised when, while toying with a tricky little bit of code, she found her own comms addressing her in a pleasant, accented voice.

"Watch it, buster!" I.M.O.G.E.N. said, through Rita's comms.

"Oh HOLY CRAP!" Rita shouted, spilling her bag of snacks. "That's not supposed to happen." 

"Unknown user detected! Security, alerted." 

"Nonononononononononono I ain't unknown! It's me! Rita!" Rita whispered, desperately. 

"Searching database for user: Rita." I.M.O.G.E.N. said, and Rita typed as fast as she could to try to push her made-up credentials into the system. There were a few moments of blips and bloops as I.M.O.G.E.N. searched for her credentials. 

"User RITA! Detected. Security, becalmed." 

"Oh thank god." Rita whispered. She was pretty sure there was something wrong with her rushed credentials, so if she was going to comb the database for the info she needed she was going to have to work fast.

~BACK IN THE CLIENT MEETING ROOM~

David 7 wanted to pay attention, he really did, he wanted to stop Trexel from saying whatever ridiculous thing he was saying and perhaps help him make a deal. But this chocolate milk was _so fucking good!_

It wasn't hot and tangy and possibly made out of the liquified parts of his clone brethren like the clone slurry that made up 100% of his diet. It was cold, rich, sweet, and delicious. Every time he took a sip he felt as though fireworks were going off behind his eyelids. If this was what alcohol was like he almost couldn't blame... no he could still definitely blame Trexel, that hadn't changed.

David glanced at his defender. Ophelia looked a bit cranky, not the way you want your client to look at this point of the meeting at all, but hey, no one had physically attacked them yet so that was an improvement from last week! Ophelia caught his gaze and leaned cautiously over to him. Trexel and Baz, distracted, continued to ramble about planet shape. 

"You like that? The milk?" Ophelia asked, tone gentle and kind.

"Yes, thank you, it's incredible." David 7 tried to whisper. 

"Good, I'm glad. You like it here? Working here, that is?"

"It's an honor to work for Stellar Firma. Praise the Board."

"Wow, no hesitation at all, huh?" 

"Oh if we don't say it quick enough guns come out of the walls." David replied honestly.

"What the fuck!?" Ophelia asked.

"DAVID." Trexel interrupted them. "Don't bore Ophelia over there, he is, of course, the guest of honor." 

"My MUSE!" Baz said for the twelfth time.

"That's me. I'm a great muse." Ophelia muttered, sipping his whiskey and eyeing Baz for a moment before turning his attention back to David. "How about you David 7, you got a muse?" 

Trexel made a loud scoffing noise. 

"Clones don't have the kind of artistic instincts that might demand a muse..." He began to explain, but David 7 cut him off.

"Oh, that'd be Bathin." David 7 said. 

"BATHIN!?" Trexel growled. 

"Who's Bathin?" Ophelia asked. 

Baz choked on his drink. 

"You, erm, how do you know Bathin?" Baz asked David, his tone at an odd pitch.

"How do YOU know Bathin?" Ophelia asked Baz, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm in curiosity.

"He's the uh, Great Duke of Galactronium." Baz said. "He and I, we've uh... crossed paths a few times." 

"And you found him to be a boring, nasty piece of work, I imagine." Trexel said. 

David 7 bristled at that insult to Bathin's diginity, but Baz looked... well, he was blushing.

"Not... exactly." Baz answered, suddenly very interested in staring directly at his drink and avoiding Ophelia's suddenly piercing gaze. 

"Oooh you've met Bathin in PERSON!?" David 7 asked, words tumbling out of him. "What was that like!? Are his abs as perfect in person as they are in pictures?"

"Oh, somehow they're better." Baz admitted, in the voice of someone who has rested his face against the aforementioned abs. David 7 did not have much experience with human bashfulness, as both Trexel and their supervisor Hartro lived their lives utterly shamelessly, but he'd read enough romance stories on I.M.O.G.E.N. that he thought he recognized it.

"He's got nice abs, huh?" Ophelia asked. "How'd uh... how did you find that out? You two go to a swimming pool together or something? _Sweetie?_ " Ophelia finished, tone quite clearly dangerous.

David 7 couldn't help but suspect that things were getting away from them. 

"LETS TALK FEATURES." Trexel boomed, and for once in David 7's life he was glad for the interruption.

~*~

"Holy CRAP I.M.O.G.E.N. will you give me a _friggin' break?!?_ " Rita whined at the comms screen. 

"Brattiness detected! Security, alerted." I.M.O.G.E.N. responded. Rita just waved her tiny hand dismissively. This was about the 8th time I.M.O.G.E.N. had announced a security alert and not one of them had had any follow through. Rita got the idea that I.M.O.G.E.N. just liked toying with her.

"Aw cram it." Rita typed a few more lines. "You got a nice voice though, I'll give you that, you weirdo computer."

"Flattery will get you... everything!" I.M.O.G.E.N. responded, and, true to her word, the few lines of code actually took and Rita found herself staring at a gorgeous, detailed map of their next quadrant. 

"YES I.M.O.G.E.N. thank you this is PERFECT! Holy cow, you render great huh? How'd you do that?" 

"A lady never tells." I.M.O.G.E.N. responded, cheekily. "User RITA!! you are viewing restricted Stellar Firma copyrighted content. To download this image, you must enter your promotional credentials."

"Promotional a-what now?" Rita asked, desperately typing into the system to figure out what sort of access code she needed to use.

"Enter credentials in the next minute, or lose access to all I.M.O.G.E.N. databases." The computer program said, in her usual pleasant tone. 

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" Rita growled.

"I do!" 

~*~

Having changed the subject from Bathin to avoid any further unnecessary stress between their clients, Trexel Geistman was now in the middle of a full rant. He turned his chair backwards and sat in it like a substitute teacher pretending to be cool, and he kept winking at Baz like they had some kind of understanding. 

"You and me, Baz, we're men of the world, right? You know how it is, coming from powerful families, born into wealth and renown, exiting the womb already crushed by the exponential weight of familial expectation? Right Baz? Right old boy? Right good friend?"

"Ummmm... yes?" Baz responded, scooting ever so slightly back from Trexel.

"You know what it's like to want to do something impressive. Something that will PUT YOU ON THE MAP. And nothing puts you on the map like a PLANET, DOES IT BAZ!? IT PUTS YOU ON A WHOLE DAMN GLOBE!" 

"I mean, I suppose so?" Baz responded, taking another sip of his drink.

Ophelia once again leaned in to whisper to David 7.

"What is happening here?" Ophelia asked.

David sighed.

"Trexel's plan was to appeal to Baz as a fellow child of wealth and privilege."

"Oh! And what were you going to do?" 

"I was supposed to offer you amphetamines and get you out of the way." David 7 admitted, apologetically. 

"Oh shit, David!" Ophelia let out a short, surprised laugh. David 7 cringed in apology.

"Do... do you want any?" He asked, tone pitching upwards at the end because he was nervous, trying to slip his hand into his onesie's pocket. "He gave me some..."

"No thanks, but I appreciate the offer. This is all WILDLY illegal, by the way." 

"That's honestly not surprising." David 7 admitted.

Trexel was on a bit of roll now.

"My parents and I, we get on swimmingly, they're so proud of me, Baz, as I'm sure you understand..."

"Oh no..." David 7 muttered under his breath.

Trexel continued.

"I'm sure the only reason you weren't aware that my mother had any children was because it's not the sort of thing that you wear on your sleeve! Is it? Of course! You don't tell people that your son is EXTREMELY SUCCESSFULLY designing EXCELLENT planets for Stellar Firma because that smacks of pride, doesn't it, Baz? She wouldn't fail to bring up my existence for any other reason? Eh? Certainly not because I'm a massive disappointment and destroying the family name and SHUT UP TREXEL NOBODY WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR PROBLEMS YOU IDIOT YOU'VE RUINED MY LIFE!"

"TREXEL!" David squeaked, burying his face in his hands. "We've TALKED about this, please don't have a breakdown in front of the clients!" 

"Oh shit." Ophelia muttered, as Trexel panted and glanced around the room, eyes manic, droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. Baz, who froze up for only a moment during Trexel's breakdown, was the first to recover.

"Don't even worry about it, love." Baz said, patting Trexel's knee with a soothing smile. "Who needs parents? When you can buy a planet?" 

"YES!" Trexel snapped out of his reverie at the word 'buy.' "Yes! With our kind of money, who needs parents!? HA!"

"Sounds like those billions of dollars sure help the childhood trauma go down a little smoother, huh." Ophelia muttered, finishing his drink in one impressive swig. 

"I'm so tired of hearing about his childhood trauma." David 7 whispered. 

"ALERT." A female voice rang out in the sales room, making all four of them jump. Flashing lights and alarms appeared on every screen in the room. "FAKE CLIENTS DETECTED. TREXEL GEISTMAN AND DAVID 7, ALERTED."

"I.M.O.G.E.N.?" David 7 asked, standing up. "What on earth?"

"What's the meaning of this!" Baz stood up.

"Clients Baz Skretteberg and Ophelia Clay do not exist. Martian private investigator JUNO STEEL and an unidentified male have infiltrated Stellar Firma." 

"Well this is all very unusual." Trexel said, looking around. "I.M.O.G.E.N., are you sure?"

"She's sure as hell not sure, and I'm frankly offended!" Ophelia said, but David 7 couldn't help but notice the way his hand went to his hip. The way someone's would if they were reaching for a blaster.

"Trexel? What do we do, Trexel? I wasn't trained for this!" David 7 asked. 

"I'm sure everything's fine." Trexel said, ignoring the noise and chaos around him. "I.M.O.G.E.N.'s just the most sophisticated computer program in the universe, it's probably an error." 

Suddenly another female voice cut in over the speakers, a somewhat shrill, accented voice that David 7 did not recognize.

"Oh don't you even test me you slick son of a- oh HI! Hello! This is, uh... RITA! R-I-T-A the uh... Really Intelligent Technology Analyzer, just cutting in for a minute to say EVERYTHING'S FINE! Ahahaha! I.M.O.G.E.N. just made a teensy little error for a sec, but everything's fine!"

"See? Just as I said." Trexel beamed. "Everything's perfectly normal."

Ophelia, however, looked like he was about to sink into his chair in embarrassment. Baz's smile seemed even more pasted on than normal. 

"That said, uh... Mr. Skittlebug and uh... boss, probably ought to finish up their meeting real quick. Um. RITA OUT!" And with an odd staticky noise, Rita cut out. The sirens and flashing lights stopped, and the Stellar Firma team and their clients stared at one another in an awkward silence.

"So, shall we talk payment?" Trexel said, as though nothing at all unusual had taken place.

"Absolutely." Baz answered, standing up. Ophelia followed, linking his arm through Baz's in an obvious preparation for their departure. "Have your people send my people the paperwork and its done!" Baz said, turning to shake Trexel's hand with a wide smile. 

"Splendid! Oh lovely!" Trexel said, shaking Baz's hand with enthusiasm. Baz and Ophelia made their way over to the salesroom door at brisk pace. When they were nearly there David leaned over to Trexel.

"What people!?" he whispered. 

"SHUT UP David! We can't let them know we don't have people!" Trexel hissed back.

~*~

Juno dodged a very old and filthy puddle as he and Peter sped down Stellar Firma's halls. 

"We gotta go back for David 7." He repeated.

"We don't have time!" Peter said. "You heard Rita." 

"He said guns come out of the walls if they step out of line! He's basically a slave!"

"I admit... I assumed that Stellar Firma's clones would not be so... self aware." Peter said, ducking the sparks from a malfunctioning light fixture. "But I'm afraid rescuing clones is not our priority today."

"We should make it our next priority then." Juno said, as they finally made it to their meet up point. He glanced back down the hallways, checking to see if maybe David followed them. "That gooey little dude had it _rough_." 

"I know, love." Peter took Juno's hand and kissed his temple as the automatic doors slid shut around them. "You're absolutely right." 

"You still like me when I'm morally outraged?" Juno muttered, finally looking back at Peter.

"I like you all the time." Peter said, stroking Juno's cheek. "And I'm starting to wish we didn't have so much reason to be morally outraged." 

Juno leaned in and kissed Peter gently on the lips. 

"Too fucking right." He muttered.


End file.
